by Marin Sorescu
A straw spent all its youth
In a mattress
And thought the world
To have only one dimension:
Daily it pressed
With a force equal to desperation.
How do you know how it feels
You, who haven't spent all your youth
In a mattress?!
Now it goes quite mad,
The nights are as light
As the days,
Not even the dust settles on it
To rest for two hours after dinner.
It's a s if it wasn't a straw anymore,
But a feather from an angel's wing -
A former neighbour from the mattress -
That's how light it feels.
Yet sometimes intuition tells him
That, after all, the sky's also a mattress,
A bluer one,
On which the master snores.
from Let’s Talk about the Weather and other poems by Marin Sorescu at Forest Books, translated by Andreea Deletant and Brenda Walker.